Enough is Enough
by A.M. Richardson
Summary: Jack makes a decision
1. Enough is Enough

TITLE: ENOUGH IS ENOUGH  
  
CLASSIFICATION: Vignette AUTHOR: A. M. Richardson SPOILERS: Set S7, but no real spoilers RATING: PG Ship/angst/one swear word PAIRINGS: Sam/Jack SUMMARY: Jack makes a decision DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp. and Double Secret Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. E-MAIL: audrich08 @ aol.com  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Happy Birthday, Tricia!  
  
******  
  
Right at this very moment, Jack couldn't give a good goddamnfuck who saw them. He really didn't care. He knew that he should. After all, he had spent seven years dancing a fine line and keeping a tight reel on his emotions, but now?  
  
Enough was enough.  
  
Carter shifted a little in her sleep, which was handy, because his arm was starting to go numb. He wriggled his left leg and inwardly cursed the small stab of pain that shot up his thigh.  
  
He still didn't care.  
  
He was half-sitting, half-perched on one of the infirmary beds with his back inclined against the pillows. Carter was resting her back against his front, her head supported on his chest, breathing in a regular rhythm. Jack's right hand was entwined with hers, fingers interlocked, as they had never been before. His left arm was curled gently around her shoulder and somehow he had maneuvered his hand so that it was resting - holding - Carter's head.  
  
He shifted his butt, trying to get some blood moving. Yeah, he should probably get down, but while Carter was sleeping, there was not a chance in hell. He craned his head forward slightly. Yup. She was still asleep. Good. She needed it. He tightened his hold a little, feeling the bones in her stick-like arm. He released his grip. Despite his own discomfort, he felt good being here; this felt right.  
  
Carter and him. Sam and Jack.  
  
Although, it very nearly wasn't right. They thought she was dead. They thought they all were. Even if Carter and the kids hadn't been killed in the initial attack, the-powers-that-be thought that there was no way that one adult and twenty-two children would all have survived nearly four weeks without food or water.  
  
They thought wrong. Well, they didn't know Carter. Not like *he* knew her.  
  
Jack was the first to admit the evacuation of a small group of humans from an isolated planet had been a disaster of catastrophic proportions. Some demented Goa'uld had been attacking the planet, seemingly without warning and without purpose. No surprise there. The planet was 'Asgard Protected' which obviously wasn't worth the paper it wasn't written on, because they were no-where to be seen.  
  
Carter and the kids were supposed to be rescued in the first wave, but the planet busters had cut up the landscape like some damned meteorite hit. They ended up trapped behind several hundred feet of misplaced rocks and rubble with no supplies and no way of contacting the outside. Oh, the SGC located Carter's homing signal - thank God for McKay's ingenuity - but they couldn't raise Carter on the radio.  
  
Nothing, nada, nichts, zilch, zip.  
  
However, echo sounding had identified a large hole in the rocks. Neat room size. Big enough. So Jack and the lads got out the shovels and anything else the SGC could get their hands on after the bastard Goa'uld had lost interest. And they dug. For three weeks and four-and-a-half days, they dug.  
  
When the SG teams finally broke through, they were surrounded by the kids, starving and dehydrated, but *alive*. Carter had used her meager supplies, her training and that goddamn brilliant brain of hers to keep *all* of them alive. Licking drops of water from the rocks and eating the cruddy earth debris wasn't enough, though. Some of the kids were pretty sick and were evac'd ASAP. But the kids were A1 compared to Carter.  
  
She was lying at the back of the 'cave', barely conscious, when Jack got there. Disguising his shock at her appearance and picking up Sam's withered hand, he tried to rouse her. She opened her eyes and smiled. She smiled *right at* him. At *him*. Her skin was like darkened leather, most of her hair had fallen out, and it seemed as though she had too many teeth in her mouth. However, right then, he hadn't cared *what* she looked like, so long as he could get her safely back home.  
  
Of course, she hadn't eaten or drunk anything, giving up her rations for the children. No surprise there, either. *That* was Sam Carter all right. Then, Jack noticed the cuts. Numerous cuts, lengthways down her arms. One of the older kids explained, his earnest young face white and sad. 'The lady had done this with her knife and made the younger ones drink from the cuts.'  
  
Sweet Jesus. She had made them drink her blood to keep them alive. This woman was incredible.  
  
Jack once more shifted his butt on the bed to make himself comfy, and risked holding her a little tighter. She was still cold, although much warmer than when they found her. Fraiser wasn't gonna take her through the 'gate at first, but it was obvious Sam didn't have long. They risked it, but the medics sprang to panic stations earth side when her heart stopped beating on the 'gate ramp. Fraiser got Sam back no problem, yet had only given her a 50-50 chance of surviving the night.  
  
Well, here Sam was, four days later, still alive and staying that way. Jack wasn't kidding himself that her road to recovery would be easy - she was skin and bone. Not eating or drinking could do that to a person. She couldn't walk, saying anything more than 'yes' or 'no' wore her out, and she spent most of the time asleep. Fraiser said recovery would take six months, so Jack gave her six weeks. Six weeks to get Sam back on her feet and back to normal. Well, not quite as normal as they were - some things were going to change. He looked down at their joined hands. She hadn't let go of his hand the whole time on the planet even though she lacked the strength to talk. On the planet, he returned the touch with gentle pressure, expecting to be kicked out of the way by Doc Fraiser and the medics, but they had simply worked around him. Sam had continued to hold his hand on the way back to the 'gate, Jack only relinquishing the contact when Fraiser got her zap paddles out.  
  
To Jack, it had felt like a release, a catharsis of sorts. She was barely alive, but she wanted a connection with him. He needed it as much as she did. Their hands had stayed together since, give or take a pee-break and a briefing or two when she was asleep. Jack leaned forward, avoiding the dangling Hickman line. She was still asleep, so he should probably go and grab something to eat.  
  
Ah, to hell; the mess chef would do takeout again and he could eat one- handed.  
  
A noise outside of the privacy curtain made him look up. Janet Fraiser poked her auburn head through the gap and smiled. He grinned back only for the smile to die on his lips when he saw a civvy-suited George Hammond following the doc through the screen.  
  
Crap. Talk about compromising positions in front of the boss. Jack had his second-in-command lying on top of him, forgodssake! Hammond beamed a genial smile and nodded at the sleeping Sam. He then held up two pink woolly socks.  
  
Two. Pink. Woolly. Socks.  
  
Gently, Janet unfolded the bottom part of Sam's bed to uncover her feet. Between them, the General and the Doc carefully sock-clad Sam's tootsies and tucked the blankets back. Hammond moved around to the side of the bed. He looked at their clasped hands. And smiled. Huh? He *smiled*. No thunderbolts or even barely controlled Texan rage?  
  
General George leaned closer.{crap, crap, crappity crap}.and kissed Sam on the forehead. He nodded briefly at Jack and followed Fraiser back through the curtain.  
  
So. He was ignoring their touch? Accepting it? Advocating it? Jack's hands caressed Sam's leathery skin through his fingers. They had earned this. They had lived - and died - for a single purpose for seven years. They had put aside their private lives, their needs, and their feelings for the-powers-that-be and for-the-powers-that-be-beyond. They deserved this unpretentious touch of companionship and outward declaration of simple love.  
  
Yeah. The 'L' word.  
  
He knew that now, and was able to admit to himself. He was sure Sam felt the same way; he had seen it in her eyes when she had smiled at him in the cave. When she was better, he was *so* inviting her to go fishing and she was *so* gonna say yes. They would sit on his deck, talk, drink beer and fish all day and night. Then, they would talk about that 'L' word.  
  
As for TPTB, well, they would cross that bridge when they came to it. After everything that had happened, a line had to be drawn.  
  
Enough was enough.  
  
The End  
  
Copyright © Audrey Menzies Richardson, 2003  
  
"Vulgo enim dicitur: lucundi acti labores" (Cicero) 


	2. Best Laid Plans of Mice and Colonels

TITLE: Best Laid Plans of Mice and Colonels  
  
CLASSIFICATION: Short Story AUTHOR: A. M. Richardson SPOILERS: Set S7, but no real spoilers RATING: PG-13 Ship/angst/a little mild swearing PAIRINGS: Sam/Jack WARNINGS: Mention of child death, suggestion of self-mutilation/suicide attempt. SUMMARY: Things don't always go as planned, now *there's* a shocker. DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp. and Double Secret Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. E-MAIL: audrich08 @ aol.com  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thanks to Lisa and Tricia for the beta and to Jo B, for saying nice things just when I needed them the most, and to Gwen & Sis. *kisses*  
  
******  
  
Jack O'Neill gripped the steering wheel of his SUV harder as the Colorado sleet melted into rivulets down his windshield. The intermittent swish of his wiper blades did nothing to improve his view of what was causing the traffic jam, or his mood, which was deteriorating further with each steady swipe.  
  
He checked his watch again. Great. He was now *forty* minutes late. Fingering his cell phone propped in the holder, he considered calling the hospital again. No. He knew they would have passed the message on to Carter, but he was also well aware she would not have acknowledged it.  
  
It was now nearly three months since Carter and twenty-two children had been rescued from a rocky entombment on some God-forsaken planet. They were all starved and near to death, having eaten or drunk very little food and water for three and a half weeks. Well, technically, Carter had 'died', but only for the few moments until Fraiser did her Dr. Frankenstein thing and zapped her back to life. Twenty-one of the kids recovered and were back with their parents, happily living on PX-whatever - The Land of the Light.  
  
Yeah. Twenty *one* kids. One died. A little boy by the name of Pavan, of Naquadah poisoning. The alien element in Carter's blood was blamed.  
  
The kids managed to survive by eating and drinking the plant debris and meager water trapped in the cave with them. However, Carter knew that wasn't enough. They needed protein and vitamins; they needed more. So she took out her service knife and cut open her own arms and made the toddlers suck up her blood in an attempt to keep them alive.  
  
By the time the SGC teams dug them out, Carter's physical condition was pretty bad, but Jack was over the moon to see them alive. To see *her* alive. He stuck by Sam's side during the first few days in the infirmary silently declaring: 'enough is enough' and promising all kinds of stuff to her.  
  
What a crock of shit.  
  
Doesn't life always bite you on the ass just when you think you are actually getting somewhere? Jack stared out the windshield at the passersby, huddled under their coats as if hiding from the world.  
  
When Pavan had gotten sick, the docs said it was the heavy metal type constituents in Carter's blood that were reacting with the iron-carrying cells in his juvenile blood. His body slowly starved of oxygen and despite transfusions and experimental procedures, he died, two and half weeks after being rescued. Fraiser was adamant that Sam should not be told; her recovery was progressing, but her physical condition was still critical and there was a long road to go. Any stress could be deadly.  
  
Best laid plans of mice and Colonels.  
  
Then, one of the candy stripers accidentally blabbed to Carter about Pavan. Although Carter only got half the story, her tenacious quest for facts revealed the tragic truth. Any hope of building on the progress she managed thus far just crumbled. And Jack's dream of cabins, lakes and futures crumbled along with it. His friend (he couldn't call her anything else, could he?) spiraled downwards into severe depression. Fraiser said it was lack of happy hormones or some damn thing, but that wasn't surprising, as Carter had stopped eating. She stopped talking. She stopped fighting.  
  
Fraiser was patient. The gastric tube went back in and the IV's kept her stable. The psychs were in and out of her ward like busy little bees. It was all keeping her body alive, yeah, but not her soul. He had seen it in her before, after Jolinar. She was wearing a flat, lifeless look. God help him, he knew that look. He saw it in her; he had seen it in himself. It hurt to be awake. Sleep was the only escape and there was precious little of that. Light hurt and mirrors were avoided. Food tasted like ashes and the world was a monochromatic wasteland with no reason to get out of bed.  
  
Guilt - that very 'human' of emotions - is an acid that dissolves you slowly from the inside out. Jack fingered the condensation forming on the inside of the truck windows and stretched his left leg; it was cramping again. Letting out an annoyed puff of air, he rubbed his thigh and reached over to turn the heater up.  
  
He also noticed that Carter couldn't bear noise. He remembered that. Of course, he was about to hear the loudest and last noise himself - that of his 9mm going off in his right ear - before General West's henchmen came knocking. The first Abydos mission was his saving grace and a twelve-year- old Cassandra had been Sam's once before. So, Cassandra tried, Janet tried, even McKenzie, hell, *everyone* had tried *everything* to get through to Silent Sam, but with no response.  
  
Well, perhaps not everything.  
  
Jack wasn't actually worried about Carter's physical condition when she was so depressed; Fraiser could IV feed her indefinitely. No. He was worried what would happen once her strength returned. And this worry was vindicated by the previous day's events.  
  
Because Samantha M. Carter, Major, USAF, came close to killing herself. At best, a court-martialable offense and at worst, well, Jack couldn't even begin to contemplate the worst. Yanking out her tubes - God, that must have hurt - she managed to get as far as the nurse's store cupboard and the sharps safe before collapsing, a unused scalpel in her hand.  
  
Yeah, bite you on the ass.  
  
Now, Jack was trying one last thing. He wasn't sure if his visits were doing any good; Carter usually lay like a lump while he rambled on aimlessly. At least Teal'c and Daniel said the same was true for them.  
  
The traffic was moving - about friggin' time. Why does some faceless bureaucrat always decide it will be a good idea to dig up roads in the middle of winter?  
  
Parking his SUV in McKenzie's place, he turned up his overcoat collar to make the short dash to the hospital entrance. One elevator ride later he was at the nurse's station for Carter's floor, announcing his presence and confirming the plans. Signing his name on the appropriate forms, he asked the same thing he always did:  
  
"How is she today?"  
  
"Stable," replied the Piscean faced nurse, her mouth perpetually turned down like a mournful pike.  
  
Jack paused outside Carter's door and peeked in through the viewing window. Carter was lying on her back, straight out on her bed and facing away from him. Checking more closely, he could see some soft arm restraints were in place, securing her wrists to the upraised bed guards. Damn. As proud as Sam was - is - that's gotta hurt.  
  
Deep breath. Courage to the sticking post. Clutching the supplies that Janet left for him, he slapped open the door and practically *bounded* into the room. Shit, her naso-gastric tube was back in place.  
  
"Greetings, Carter! How are you today?" Jack held his hand up to mock- ward off the answer he knew he wasn't going to get. "No, I know, don't tell me: 'MARVELOUS!'"  
  
Sam snapped her eyes closed the second he came into the room, pretending to be asleep. Jack felt a pang of memory as a vision of Charlie swam into his mind. He would always lie awake for hours after Jack got back from overseas, waiting for his Dad to come in and straighten out the quilt, but he'd close his eyes tight when Jack opened the door.  
  
He gently tugged at Carter's left arm restraint. A pair of baleful blue eyes shot open and glared at him.  
  
"Yup, I'm springing you, Carter," he stated as he leaned over to untie the other restraint. The hand flopped to the bed sheets. Freeing her remaining hand with a flourish, he fished hurriedly in his pocket for the object he needed before his nerve failed him.  
  
"Well, there ya go; liberation. And here's what you were searching for yesterday, Ms. Carter." He held out the scalpel, handle first.  
  
Staring. He could do that.  
  
Sam was looking at the knife. Jack saw the fingers on her right hand twitch, but she made no move to touch it. So he placed it carefully in her flaccid palm.  
  
Her eyes closed slowly, and she turned her head away.  
  
"Fuck off, Jack," she hissed.  
  
A response. Thank God. "Ooh-err, Major. That would be 'fuck off, *sir*', plus, that's insubordination, and over familiarity without permission. Add that to attempted suicide, and you'll be scrubbing toilets with your toothbrush in Alaska to end your career."  
  
Oh, now *that* hurt. Carter squeezed her eyes closed and clenched the fist that *wasn't* holding the knife. She seemed so small, pressed into the bed. The hair that was beginning to grow back spread out on the pillow and flopped over her still-sallow forehead. When her eyes re-opened, that flat, almost shark-like look was back. Christ, it was as if that entity thing possessed her again. There was no further response.  
  
"All-righty! That knife not big enough? What about this one?" Jack took out her service knife from where it was hidden it in his back pocket. He grasped the sheath deliberately and eased the blade out, the metal making a scraping sound against the guard.  
  
Oh, she was *definitely* staring now.  
  
Jack leaned over the bed. "I said, use this." He removed the scalpel and replaced it with her own weapon. Her breathing came faster. Fraiser had better be right when she said that Sam was physically up to this. "I tell you what, use the bathroom. It's easier to clean up, although dang hard to get blood out of grouting." You're a bastard, O'Neill; you know that, he thought.  
  
Sam's mouth was working and she turned her head away, shifting the n-g tube slightly. Her hand was still loose around the hilt.  
  
He steeled himself for the next part.  
  
"Go on, then, Carter. If you are *such* a waste of space, do it now and get it over with. No one cares about you, Sam, that's why your room has more cards than Hallmark, and your flowers could give my local florist a run for their money."  
  
Jack took a step back, his gaze divided between Carter's fingers and her face. There was no response from either. Time for plan B. He leaned over, noticing her eyes flicker closed as he moved, and gently retrieved the knife from her limp hand. Sheathing the knife, he walked over to the door and poked his head out. Janet was waiting outside. "Plan B," he admitted with resignation.  
  
Thirty minutes later, Carter was carefully ensconced on a patient transport headed to Cheyenne, with Doctor-don't-mess-with-me-Sam Fraiser in attendance. As he stared at her glaring out of the window, he noticed Sam's white knuckles and her slightly-too-rapid breathing.  
  
How much did he want to cover that skinny hand with his own again? To put his arm around her bony shoulders once more and tell her over and over again *not* to worry? She apparently didn't remember that he had done that.  
  
Forget it, Jack. Duty before self.  
  
By the time they got her into a wheelchair and down to the SGC, Sam was obviously in some distress and Jack was seriously reconsidering the plans. There was minimal staff present, as was arranged with General George, but Sam was still avoiding all conversation and eye contact. Jack started to change his mind, but Janet was confident, performed some quick obs and gave him the nod. Fortified, he pushed the wheelchair to the outside of the level 28 blast doors and waited for the 'gate's dialing sequence to finish. If Carter got a peek at the locked chevrons, her eidetic memory would tell her where they were going, and he didn't want her to know just yet. The familiar 'kawoosh' sound told him that all was ready.  
  
Pushing the chair across to the edge of the 'gate ramp, he could still see Sam gripping the sides. Her head was hanging so low; it was practically touching her knees. As Jack applied the brake, he could see Hammond lean closer to the window.  
  
~ Good luck, Jack, ~ he mouthed.  
  
Daniel and Teal'c were standing stony faced behind the General. He nodded to them all, then bent down to flip up the footrests and gently placed Sam's slippered feet onto the floor. As he glanced up he caught her expression and his heart lurched; all he could see was pain. Her eyes were wide and her breath was huffing out the few long strands of hair she still had remaining.  
  
As he gently tugged at the blanket covering Sam's legs, she suddenly gripped it with her right hand, while the left shot out, flat-palmed to push him away. "Leave me alone," she whispered, her eyes averted.  
  
Jack ground his teeth and continued to pull the blanket out of her grasp and handed it to Janet. "Carter, it'll be easier if you walk up the ramp. It's a bit difficult to get the chair up the wire grating." He gave her what he hoped was his best encouraging look.  
  
Sam jerked her head around to face her friend and her doctor. "Janet, please, I'm not well, don't make me go," she pleaded.  
  
Before the doc could answer, Jack reached out and gently cupped Sam's chin and moved her face to look at him. "Do you trust me, Sam?" he asked quietly. Her eyes were wide open now, reflecting the soft blue and white ripples of the Stargate event horizon.  
  
The look she gave in reply was full of desperation.  
  
Dear God. How could his strong, smart, sexy-as-hell second-in-command have been reduced to this? How had he allowed it?  
  
He didn't take his hand away. He looked at her. She looked at him.  
  
She spoke. "Yes."  
  
He shook his head. "Then you're coming with me." He reached under her knobbly knees and placed an arm around her shoulders ready for the lift.  
  
Once again, her hand palmed out. "Okay, but under my own steam. Sir."  
  
Jack's stomach just did a somersault, double toe looping, the lot. "Certainly, Major," he grinned, and scooped his arms under hers as she struggled to stand upright. With Jack on one side, and Janet on the other, Sam managed reasonable progress up the ramp to the glowing aperture. He held his hand firmly about his shoulders as they passed through the wormhole, but released the grip as they stepped through to the other side. He heard her faintly gasp as she realized where she was and could see Janet immediately checking over her patient's physical condition.  
  
The Stargate on the 'The Land of the Light' had been re-sited; moved from the dense forest within the planet's semi-permanent terminator to the sunny courtyard facing the entrance to Councillor Tuplo's palace. The difference was stunning. Carter's mouth was slightly parted, and her cheeks showed the first real tinge of color he had seen on them in weeks.  
  
"Carter?" he questioned.  
  
"I'm all right, sir. I didn't know the 'gate here had been moved," she stammered, her eyes wide with the beauty of the vista.  
  
Jack waggled his eyebrows in return. "Ah-ha. I don't tell you everything, Carter." Ain't *that* the truth, O'Neill.  
  
Sam shook her head. "Then why are we *here*?" The suspicion in her voice was evident, the fear, less so.  
  
Jack signaled to one of the beefy guards who nodded in return and began to pull open the large, ornate atrium door. "There are some people who want to say 'hi'," he said simply.  
  
Suddenly, in poured a gaggle of chattering - make that yelling - kids. Twenty-one kids. The 'Carter' kids.  
  
He saw Sam's head dip, but the med tech was ready with the chair and so were Janet's arms. Jack helped to ease her down, but any words of comfort were buried amongst the noise of little kids, big kids, kids with dogs, kids with flowers. What was the collective noun for a group of raucous, happy children? Jack smirked as they giggled and chatted and yelled, telling Carter this, showing Carter that, getting her to shake paws with their dogs.  
  
Jack's hand stayed near the top of her shoulders, joining in the kids' conversations and cracking jokes. His attention was actually on Sam; her eyes were like saucers, and her bottom lip was being chewed furiously. He let his hand fall onto the shoulder of the oversized AF PT sweatshirt she was wearing. A puppy was dumped on her lap and as she scratched its ears, Sam turned to look Jack in he eye. He tried to look innocent and failed; she had warned him before about introducing non-indigenous life forms to alien ecosystems. Her admonishing look melted away. It melted away into *that* smile - the one she had used back on the planet. She *did* remember.  
  
Turning her face back to the kids, she continued to answer their questions, accepted all their hugs, and ended up with two little ones perched on her knees. When the chatter started to die down, parents appeared, picking out their children. Then there were more hugs for Sam Carter.  
  
Kiss after kiss. Hug after hug. Tears after tears. They embraced this remarkable woman who kept their children alive through her intelligence, determination and the sheer force of her personality.  
  
Eventually, just one man, one woman and one little girl remained. Jack knew who these people were, and it was obvious Carter had guessed. Jack tightened his grip around her slightly trembling shoulders and knelt beside her, hoping his knees wouldn't creak too badly. He slipped his right hand into hers, and quite enjoyed the gentle look of shock and mild surprise that crossed her face.  
  
The woman came forward with something held fast against her chest. She nodded respectfully and smiled hesitantly, but when she spoke, her voice was strong and unwavering.  
  
Just two words.  
  
"From Pavan."  
  
She took Sam's free hand and turned it palm up, dropping something into her fingers, and as she did so, Jack got a good look from where he knelt. It was a small bracelet; rough hewn from small pieces of wood, each bit carved into a tiny design. Sam shook her head. "No. No. I can't; you must cherish it." She tried to return the gift to Pavan's mother, but she simply kissed Sam on the cheek and stepped back.  
  
The tanned, earnest-faced man then stepped forward, his little tangled- haired daughter clinging happily to his hand. He too knelt, and Jack was suddenly struck by the absurd scene of two grown men kneeling before their queen.  
  
Pavan's father quieted his daughter before addressing Sam. "We cherish our daughter, Samantha, and we are indebted to you for saving her life, and trying to save that of our son. Without you, we would have nothing." His simple but powerful words were definitely having an effect on Janet; she was sniffing into her hanky.  
  
Jack turned to gauge Sam. Her shoulders stopped trembling as she smiled at Pavan's sister. "Thank you. I will treasure this."  
  
After more hugs and lots of sticky-kiddy kisses, the family turned away and retreated through the court gates. Janet and the med tech were gone too; they were alone. Sam was fiddling with the bracelet, her mouth working and her eyes moist. No tears from her - he couldn't remember the last time Carter cried in front of him.  
  
"You okay?" Jack asked. He laughed into the pause that followed. "Geez, I say a lotta dumb stuff."  
  
Sam sputtered out a giggle, but then almost immediately sobered. She bent her head to appraise the bracelet. "He's dead because of me."  
  
Jack pulled off his cap with his free hand. "Carter, twenty-one kids are *alive* because of you." They were definitely getting somewhere. Maybe this would work.  
  
The next words were spoken so quietly, he strained to hear her.  
  
"I don't know if I can live with the one I lost."  
  
Damn.  
  
"We lose people all the time-" he held up a hand to silence her breaking protest. "This is that much harder because it was a child."  
  
She was doing the staring thing again. And nodding. She was nodding.  
  
"Give it time, Carter. Let us help you." He squeezed her hand, which he was still holding. To his astonishment, she squeezed back.  
  
They sat for several minutes while Jack watched the play of emotions across Sam's face. Finally, she expelled a slow breath and looked down at their clasped hands. "I missed this."  
  
Jack was aware he was making a face like a goldfish. This wasn't in the plan. "So you *do* remember."  
  
Heck, she was cute when she was biting her lip. "Yeah."  
  
"Do you remember anything I said to you?" {Please say no, please say no}  
  
"Some. About going to your *cabin*, mostly." She was smiling again, and her thumb was doing a really nice thing rubbing up and down on the back of his hand.  
  
Up and down. Down and up. "Damn you, woman," he grumbled.  
  
Oh my. Her face just lit up with one of her beaming grins. "You know we can't," she said simply.  
  
His thoughts flew back to General George and two pink woolly socks. "Um..we might be able to. But a few things need to change first."  
  
Sam shook her head. "There's no way I'm gonna let you retire, so don't even think about that, but they'll probably kick me off an operational unit anyway, being certified nuts, and everything."  
  
"Oh," smirked Jack, "You too?" He released her hand and picked up the bracelet that she was holding. As he eased the dainty ring over her wrist, he noticed her breath was coming faster.  
  
"Okay, but we need to get. things. sorted." Her voice was slightly nervous, but hopeful.  
  
Adjusting the bracelet on her arm, he nodded. "I know."  
  
She was nodding again. What was this? Nodders Anonymous? 'Hi, I'm Jack and I nod when I'm nervous'.  
  
"And I want to talk to my Dad."  
  
A-ha. "I know that too. And that's fine, 'cos he's right - over - there." Jack pointed to where Jacob Carter was marching across the atrium like he was on a parade ground.  
  
Sam spun her head back. "You planned this!" she accused, her eyes sparkling.  
  
Jack grinned his best Minnesotan cutie boy grin. "Oh, Yasureyabetcha!"  
  
Her answering look all at once made his heart melt and his mind spin cartwheels.  
  
Ha! Best laid plans, Jack, best laid plans.  
  
The End  
  
Copyright © Audrey Menzies Richardson, 2003  
  
Feedback is most welcome.  
  
"Vulgo enim dicitur: lucundi acti labores" (Cicero) 


	3. Now is the Time

TITLE: Now is the Time  
  
CLASSIFICATION: Short Story AUTHOR: A. M. Richardson SPOILERS: Set S7, but no real spoilers RATING: G Ship/angst/humor/fluff PAIRINGS: Sam/Jack SUMMARY: Jack dangles his rod in the water DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp. and Double Secret Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. ARCHIVE PERMISSIONS: SJD - yes. E-MAIL: audrich08 @ aol.com (remove spaces)  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is a sequel to 'Enough is Enough' and 'Best Laid Plans of Mice and Colonels'. MANY thanks to my betas, Lyta, Rosemary and Sarae. *smooches*  
  
This story is dedicated to the 'Alison' mentioned in the story, who will never read this and never know that I think of her nearly every day, even though it's been twenty years.  
  
1st - 7th February is 'Eating Disorders Awareness Week' in the UK.  
  
******  
  
Well. This was.nice. Warm, sunny day, peaceful pond, rod dangling. Heaven was Minnesota in June. Well, nearly Heaven. His idea of Heaven: Minnesota - check, warm - check, rod dangling - check, Carter here - check. Unfortunately, his idea of Heaven didn't include Carter's *Dad*, currently sitting five feet away from him on the dock. Also with a rod. And five fish in his keepnet. Yup. The current tally: Jacob Carter - five fish. Jack O'Neill - none. No pesky fish were nibbling on *his* line.  
  
He sighed and shifted his weight to the other butt cheek.  
  
"You okay, Jack?" Jacob's voice sounded perky. It would.  
  
"Yup." Nonchalant, he could do that.  
  
When he invited Carter to his cabin, he hoped against hope that she would say yes. She did, at last. What he didn't reckon was that Carter, senior, would invite himself along for the ride. With a G Loomis rod and a $200 custom Shimono reel. Damn. How the hell was Jack supposed to know that Jacob used to fish in the amateur leagues in his youth? So here Jack was, sitting on the dock with his - friend's - Dad and not even a black crappie to call his own.  
  
Ah-ha. Salvation. He turned his head to see Carter walking towards them bearing gifts; an ice bucket and a plate piled high with sandwiches. She grinned at him as she neared the dock, a cheeky dimpled grin. He was *so* gonna get her back. Twice over.  
  
"Hey," he said.  
  
"Hey," she replied.  
  
Jack nodded to the sandwiches. "Looks good, thanks."  
  
She smiled again and snagged a couple of beers from the cooler. "You're welcome." Hooking the lids off, she handed a beer to her father and then one to him. "How's it going?" Her eyes were in fact, *sparkling*.  
  
Bitch. He cleared his throat. "Fine."  
  
Jacob began to reel his line in. So help me.  
  
"Relax, Jack, I just want to lubricate the reel, " Jacob said without looking around. Okay. Carter was *sniggering* now. It wasn't often he heard her snigger, and with everything that had gone on in the past few months he was actually glad to hear that girly little chuckle. He turned on his butt to fully appraise her. Her skin was lightly tanned and she was reasonably fit, considering. Alright, she was still way too thin, but her hair had grown back, cropped short like it was a couple of years back. It suited her. Janet said it would take a couple of months before she was ready for active duty again, but Carter was co-operating and making excellent progress. This trip to Minnesota was just what she needed.  
  
At last, he was right about something.  
  
Sam handed him the plate and as he picked off a ham-on-rye, she winked at him. She *winked* at him. *EVIL* bitch. Now she was grinning. He smiled back, but was struck by the image of her teeth being too big for her head. It must have showed on his face, because her grin faded to a small understanding smile. Holding her gaze, the Earth continued to spin on her endless journey.  
  
A cough from Jacob broke the moment.  
  
She dipped her eyelashes onto slightly blushed cheeks, and leaving the sandwiches, she retreated to her blanket and her Scientific American.  
  
He wanted to go after her. He wanted to say something clever. He wanted to make it all better.  
  
"She's fine, Jack, just leave her."  
  
Jesus! Did being a Tok'ra include psychic abilities now? He turned to fiddle with his line. He was aware he was being watched. "I know that." Oh! Way to go, Jack! Hire yourself out for after-dinner speeches, why don't you?  
  
Jacob re-cast his line and sat for a moment as the rippling water lapped gently against the dock. "You know it wasn't your fault, what happened, don't you?"  
  
Hmm. Jack guessed this *chat* was coming.  
  
"Stop making yourself a whipping boy for everything that goes wrong on SG- 1." Jacob reached with his right hand to adjust his ball cap. Well, actually, it was *Jack's* ball cap; Jacob adopted it on the first day to cover his thinning pate.  
  
"I don't do that." He may be her Dad, but-  
  
"Yes, you do." Jacob was sporting that I-know-more-than-you-dude look, even sideways from under the cap.  
  
"No, I-" Oh, no way was he finishing this. He grimaced, and then decided that he may as well as do something productive if he was going to grind his teeth. He bit savagely into his sandwich and chewed grumpily.  
  
Jacob cleared his throat. "Actually, if anyone is to blame, it's me."  
  
Huh?  
  
"I could have saved her all of this," Jacob stated, matter-of-factly.  
  
This was odd. "Jacob, you weren't anywhere near that planet when Sam and the kids were trapped."  
  
Jacob shook his head, causing his line to move, sending out fresh ripples across the murky water. "That's not what I mean, Jack. I mean I could have stopped it when she was eighteen."  
  
Jack pulled his head back slightly, not understanding. Jacob turned to look at him for the first time. "I mean, she would have failed the AF psych. screen if I hadn't pulled in a favor."  
  
Huh?  
  
"Jacob?" he asked.  
  
Jacob Carter paused before answering. "After Mary died, we had a few.problems as a family. Sam had a lot put on her - she kinda took on the role of 'mom'. It was too much for her; she was too young. She wanted to be perfect at everything and she wanted everyone to like her. Of course, it don't work that way. Kids can be cruel. She stuck out; so smart, taller than most of the boys, no mom. She worked *so* hard, never showed it, I was *so* proud. Jesus, what a shit-ass father I've been."  
  
Jack could see his Jacob's whitened knuckles gripped around his rod. He checked to see if Carter was hearing this. Her nose was still buried in her magazine.  
  
"Jacob, for crying out loud, from what Carter says, you did the best you could. Yeah, sure she moans about you, but in a sorta friendly, harmless, dad-kid sorta way, kinda." Jack was feeling out of his depth. "What do you mean by: 'would have failed the psych. screen'? You mean for the Academy?" he said, more deliberately. He began to reel his line in.  
  
Jacob nodded. "The Thanksgiving the first year she was at college, I caught her making herself sick in the bathroom, and then it all came out. I thought if that went in her notes, the Academy would never take her; she would never get through to NASA. So, I took her to a private clinic and got a couple of friends to cover up the paper trail."  
  
Jack was thunderstruck. He stared at Jacob's stoic profile and then turned to appraise the skinny recumbent figure sunbathing contentedly on his grandmother's blanket. "Jacob, you know the teams practically sleep together - in a non-sexual way, of course - when off-world. I would have noticed if she'd been barfing up. Has she still got this.anorexia?" he hesitantly asked.  
  
"It's called 'bulimia', and no, she doesn't suffer from it anymore," said Jacob quietly.  
  
This was new. "This wasn't in her records. At least, the one's that I've seen." Jack declared, thinking about a certain five foot two Napoleonic power monger. He had known Janet Fraiser since before, well, *before*, and she had said nothing. Not even when Sam was effectively starving herself to death after Pavan died.  
  
Jacob sucked in his cheeks. "No, I told you. I pulled a few strings."  
  
"I don't believe this. She never said a thing." Jack shook his head and pulled his line out of the water.  
  
"Well, she wouldn't, would she? Not to you. Sam is one of the most single- minded people I'll bet you have ever met. When she sets her mind to something, well, no one's gonna stop her, no way, no how. She *wanted* to be a part of this, she *wants* to be at the SGC, she wants to be the best second-in-command for you." Jacob finally turned to look at Jack and pulled off his cap.  
  
The two men silently regarded each other across the wooden decking.  
  
Jack *had* to ask. "Why are you telling me this now?"  
  
Jacob made a deep sigh, stuffed the cap in his pocket and reeled in his line quickly. He caught the hook and stood up, sprightly and fresh. Sometimes, Jack envied Selmak her knees.  
  
"Because it's time, Jack." Jacob's gaze was uncompromising in its intenseness; he seemed to be sizing him up. Sweat was pricking at the back of Jack's neck.  
  
Jacob spoke again; "It was a long time ago, and we all do things we regret. Sam got over it because she's strong. She'll get over this as well; she's just going to need some time. And support from the AF. And friends. And love." He bent down and stowed his gear. "You just need to decide which one you are going to give." He shouldered the tackle box and slapped the cap off his thigh, shaking out the dust. "Can I borrow your truck?"  
  
"Huh?" Oh yeah. Jack O'Neill, available for hosting {don't ever use that word, O'Neill} and Bar Mitzvahs. "Sure. Why?"  
  
Jacob gave out a small chuckle. "I'm gonna drive into town and pick up Chinese food for supper." He stared pointedly in Sam's direction. "See ya."  
  
Jack stood up, stiff-legged, as he handed Jacob the keys for the truck. "It's a two hour round trip."  
  
Jacob looked over his shoulder as he moved off. "I know; see you later."  
  
With that, he strode away, pausing to bend down and kiss his surprised daughter and was driving off before Jack could say 'Tok'ra, kree!'  
  
Right. Okay. Jacob Carter had just given him permission to do.to do... *something*. Right, Jack. You can move now. *To* Carter. In *that* direction. Sometime this year would be good. Sam raised herself up on her elbow and was staring at him with a befuddled expression.  
  
He began to walk, sauntering coolly across to where she was lying. Don't screw this up, O'Neill.  
  
"Hi," he said as he hunkered down.  
  
"Hi," she replied uncertainly. Sam's brow creased and she sat all the way up, wrapping her skinny arms around her folded jeans-clad legs. Jack noticed that Pavan's bracelet was actually becoming quite snug around her wrist.  
  
"Your Dad's gone to get Chinese food for dinner - is that okay with you?" He plunked his butt on the edge of the blanket, taking the pressure off his aching knees.  
  
Sam rested her chin on top of her own knees and smiled. "Sure, except I've asked for no bean sprouts, if that's okay with *you*." The afternoon sun glinted on her hair in a most fetching way. He recalled that Janet had highlighted it for her before Sam made the journey. Yup, very fetching.  
  
The comment registered. "Why no bean sprouts?"  
  
Again, that smile. "They remind me of something, and it puts me off."  
  
Should he pursue this? "Remind you of something?" Dear God, was he going to repeat *everything* she said?  
  
"Yeah. Little heads, long tails, that *swim*." Sam raised one hand and made small undulating movements in the warm air.  
  
Little heads, long tails, swimming.  
  
"Goa'uld?" His eyebrows raised.  
  
"No." She smirked. "Think smaller." A cute finger was wiggled in front of him.  
  
She couldn't mean? "Oh." The eyebrows dropped along with the penny.  
  
Sam was sniggering again. Cute. A slight breeze ruffled her hair. Now was the time?  
  
"Why didn't you tell me about the bulimia?"  
  
Her grin was completely wiped away and she straightened her back, her arms wrapping further around her legs. "He told you!"  
  
Jack nodded. He stretched out his left leg and started to untwist the cord of his sunglasses slung around his neck. "Yes, he did. He said he thought it was time."  
  
"Oh." Heck, she was doing it now. With one look in the field he could command her to set camp, negotiate a trade treaty, fieldstrip her P-90 and throw in a 50 sit ups for good measure. Put the same two adults and engage them in a personal conversation, and it would consist of monosyllabic grunts. She dropped her gaze, her lip twisted under her top teeth.  
  
He was going for this. "You should have told me-"  
  
Sam snapped her head up, her eyes indignant. "Why? It was private! My medical history is practically required reading at the SGC. There are some things I would prefer to remain personal." She shook her head and screwed her eyes closed.  
  
Jack grimaced as he considered her words. She was right. The SG missions were written in triplicate, backed up by hard data and practically slavered over by TPTB. There had been numerous instances of intensely private medical information being submitted in field reports, albeit highly classified ones. Jolinar, Hathor, the entity thing, Nirrti. He shuddered slightly. "I would have liked you to have told me as a friend. You know I wouldn't have taken it further if you would've asked me not to."  
  
Sam bit her lip and rested her head on her knees again. "I thought about telling you. About telling you all. Not at first, but later. I dunno. It was twenty years ago; I was a different person then. It doesn't seem so important now." She raised her head to look him in the eye. "Do you know what I mean?"  
  
Oh yeah. He nodded and reached up to adjust the bracelet encircling her pale wrist. "This is getting too small for you."  
  
She smiled and hitched the simple circlet around. "I know; I'll get it restrung when we get back."  
  
He held his fingers there and mentally pushed himself toward the next question. "Tell me about it?"  
  
Sam sighed and looked out over the lake, slowly becoming shadowed as the sun slanted through the surrounding trees. She shrugged. "A typical story- "  
  
"I doubt that," he broke in and leaned back, but kept his hand on her knee.  
  
She paused to smile slightly before continuing. "It was, really. I was my own worst critic. Low, make that *no*, self-esteem. Wants everything 110%. I was working on a major," she smiled, "physics project at school. Dad was on an unaccompanied tour and Mark was hardly at home, so I never bothered to cook. I was losing weight and I didn't even realize it. Then I started getting compliments about how good I was looking. *ME* Tall, gawky, nerdy me. Compliments! It was wonderful; I was suddenly popular."  
  
"So you continued to diet to reinforce the nice comments?" Jack was suddenly seeing the whole picture laid out before him.  
  
"Oh, yeah. Got obsessed; weighed myself three or four times a day. But I was hungry. I used to eat everything I could manage then purge it. Laxatives when I could get them, salt water and mustard when I couldn't - the pharmacies got wise to me, so I had to go to different ones." Her voice was quiet and calm; she had lived this, in all it's misguided misery  
  
Jack focused on the bracelet and all that it meant. Sacrifice. Hope. "What was the lowest point?"  
  
Sam raised her eyebrows and took a breath as she steadily stared at him. "The day I ate Kleenex."  
  
He let that one sink in. "You *ate* Kleenex?!" He couldn't help it; he spluttered out a snicker, but immediately sobered when he saw her serious face. Jesus. She *ate* Kleenex.  
  
"One of the girls at the eating disorders clinic told me that it fills you up, but it doesn't." She pulled her mouth down and swallowed slowly as she pulled her gaze away.  
  
He followed her stare out over the lake. "What made you turn the corner?" he asked quietly, increasing the pressure around her fingers just ever-so- slightly. When she didn't answer immediately, he turned to watch her face as she considered her answer. Her eyes were wide and cheerless with the memory. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.  
  
"My friend, the one that told me about the Kleenex, Alison her name was, died." Her sentence came out staccato, but her eyes remained dry. Had he done such a good job with toughening her up over the years that she had forgotten how to cry? "She had abused her body too much and when she developed pneumonia, her physiology couldn't handle it. Dead so young, at seventeen. What a waste."  
  
"Yes, it was," Jack agreed, with more force than he intended.  
  
Sam turned to look at him, now. "Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to dredge up bad memories." She bit her lip again, the pink tinge whitening under her teeth.  
  
He shook his head. "*I* asked you. And for crying out loud, willya call me 'Jack'? You're on vacation."  
  
Hey. A smile back. And a beautiful blush, all the way down her neck and past her neckline to her- "It would feel strange calling you that. I've never called you Jack to your face, at least when I've been *fully* conscious."  
  
He grinned. "Not to my *face*? Just to my ass, eh? What else have you not said to my face?"  
  
"That I love you."  
  
The Minnesotan landscape swirled about and for a moment, Jack thought that they were experiencing a twister. He suddenly became aware of Sam's anxious stare that had 'I've shot my mouth off' stamped all over it. He opened his mouth to say something, but since he couldn't think of anything clever, he shut it again. He watched her swallow.  
  
"I love you, Jack. And not just because you saved my life again. I.I," her voice faltered and she reached out and covered Jack's hand that was still on her knee with her own. Her voice was so low he had to strain to hear it. "I know that's too much, that it's wrong to love you, and I shouldn't say it, but I realize that now after all this time, and I can't hold it in anymore, and-"  
  
"Ack!" he interrupted and raised his free hand. Her eyes closed and her head drooped. Damn, she got the wrong idea. He touched her pale cheek. "No, you're wrong, er.Sam." He could see her eyes open and smiled down at the blonde head angled towards his groin. {Oh, don't think about that now}  
  
Silence. Damn! He should be speaking. He made his mouth flap up and down. "No ..um ..you saved *my* life. Sam." Sam, Sam, Sam.  
  
Her gaze was still groin-ward. A loon was calling over the water. "How?" she asked.  
  
Jack dropped his hand from her cheek and wriggled his way closer. "Are ya looking for a list here? For the times *you* personally *saved* my life, not to mention all the times you pulled SGC asses out of the fire, and so on, and so forth."  
  
A slight breeze eddied about them, rustling the grasses encircling the lake.  
  
"Hello, Carter, you in there?" he ruffled Sam's blonde locks with his hand. It was getting cooler now and they ought to go in; Sam was easily chilled. He saw her swallow. She took another breath and looked straight into his eyes, they were so close, just a bit further and-  
  
They had never been this close, not in this way. They had never spoken like this. This was honesty. This was emotion. It actually felt good. Release. Catharsis. Jack smiled at her again. "Don't you see Sam?" he said quietly, "You saved my soul from a hell on earth a long time ago." His words hung in the air between them.  
  
Finally, Sam whispered, "How long?"  
  
He continued his direct appraisal of her searching face.  
  
"How long, Jack?"  
  
He broke his gaze and clasped both her hands in his, smiling a little at the 'Jack'.  
  
"Sam, over the past six years I've watched you grow and develop as an soldier and a person. I've seen you pull some amazing scientific stunts, you've saved the world, kicked Goa'uld ass, God, you're amazing!" he paused, grinning at a fresh red flush that had started below her jaw line. "But the first time I knew I loved you? I think maybe stuck in Antarctica, but I knew for sure after Jolinar."  
  
Sam straightened fully upright. "That was the first year! Are you telling me that you've loved me from the first year?"  
  
"No, actually it was the first day," Jack smirked.  
  
"The first day?!" The words echoed and redoubled across the water. "But I was such a schmuck! I even challenged you to arm wrestle!" Her mouth was making a little 'ooh'.  
  
"I thought you were cute." Jack paused. "In fact, if we'd had more time, I would have probably suggested the conference table, but Hammond would've sulked if the scratches wouldn't have come out; you know how he loves that table."  
  
Sam started to giggle, but then sobered as the mention of the General's name and the implications of their new relationship in relation to their military lives became clearer. "What are we going to tell the General?"  
  
Jack smiled, suddenly raised his arms and brought them down around her back. He gently tightened them and sighed. "Sam, he knows."  
  
"He does?" she asked, incredulously, her eyes wide with curiosity.  
  
Jack laughed. "What I mean is, he knows we have strong feelings for each other. He's known since our Za'tarc shambles, although he probably guessed before then. After. recent events, he's been.pulling some strings."  
  
"Strings?" Sam pulled back a little and he could feel the bones in her back.  
  
This was gonna be good. "Meet *General* Jack O'Neill, Alpha site commander, as of-" he twisted his wrist and checked his Omega behind her head, "twelve hours ago."  
  
He saw her take a deep breath. She knew what it meant just as much as he did; no frat regs. He raised himself awkwardly onto his knees and stood up slowly, keeping hold of her hands and pulling her up with him.  
  
"Come down to the lake, it's lovely there in the evening," he tugged gently on her arm.  
  
"No way, I'll get bitten to death!" she grinned and started to pull back.  
  
"Hey! I never bite on the first date, " he waggled his eyebrows for good measure. If she could tease him about.bean sprouts, he could waggle his eyebrows.  
  
She allowed herself to be led to the lake, hand in hand. Jack had forgotten how good that felt; to have a woman's hand in his. Hell, to have a woman. He would have to take it easy; Sam was still recovering, quite weak, and would need space, and-  
  
-and her lips were on his, her hands were around his waist, then in his hair, oh god, that felt nice, her lips were warm and soft, his arm was up the back of her T-shirt, her thumb was under his ear, oh, that was-  
  
"JACK! What the hell are you doing with my daughter?"  
  
He broke away hurriedly, quickly removing his hands from... places where perhaps they shouldn't be. Yet.  
  
Jacob Carter. Check.  
  
Two bags of take-out. Check.  
  
And he was sporting a smirk. One that was matching his daughter's. Check.  
  
Now was the time; he wasn't waiting any longer. "Give us a shout when it's on the table, Jacob. I've just got to finish up here."  
  
Jacob Carter, open mouth. Check.  
  
Samantha Carter, open mouth. Check.  
  
Jack O'Neill. Big shit-eating grin. Check.  
  
********  
  
The End  
  
Copyright © Audrey Menzies Richardson, 2004  
  
Feedback is most welcome.  
  
"Vulgo enim dicitur: lucundi acti labores" (Cicero)  
  
If the issues raised in this fanfiction have affected you, you may find these websites helpful:  
  
UK: www.edauk.com US: www.something-fishy.org/ 


	4. BC

TITLE: B.C.  
  
CLASSIFICATION: Short Story  
  
AUTHOR: A. M. Richardson  
  
SPOILERS: Set S7, but no real spoilers   
  
RATING: R – Some very, VERY mild sexual situations  
  
Smut/Ship/a little mild swearing  
  
PAIRINGS: Sam/Jack  
  
WARNINGS: Smut and rock climbing.  
  
SUMMARY: Before Carter.  
  
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp. and Double Secret Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended.   
  
E-MAIL: audrich08 @ aol.com  
  
THANKS: *Smooches* to Sarae64 for the beta-by-return.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is the fourth instalment in the 'Enough is Enough' series.  
  
There is also an NC-17 version of this story, which you are welcome to email me for (although over 17's only, please, so include a disclaimer)  
  
******  
  
Jack O'Neill slammed his F-350 door closed and activated the locking mechanism. He slouched his hands in his pockets, whistling happily. It was 0115 hours and he was finally home after being off world for two weeks straight. He smiled as he remembered another Jack O'Neill who would often think of excuses to prevent him from going home. That was BC. Before Carter. Before, it would have been a lonely adjustment to Earth time, watching Simpson's videos and swigging Buds. Now it was home made lasagne, Chardonnay and a warm bed. Very warm. Life was good.  
  
He huffed out a foggy breath against the freezing weather and crunched across the tinkling grass to his front door. That was odd. Sam always left the hall light on for him, but the house was in darkness. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as squinted in the wan streetlamp light to locate and insert the correct key into the lock. Something was definitely off. He turned the latch carefully and stepped inside his hallway. No lights. Silence. He edged along the wall towards the bedroom. *Their* bedroom. They were a *they* now.  
  
Suddenly, he felt his neck being roughly pulled from the left and his body manhandled into the master bedroom. He tried to shout, but already there was a hand at his mouth stifling any sound. Not that it would have helped; the neighbors were away a lot. He felt himself slammed up against the closet door, which knocked the breath out of him for a second, but only a second. When hands came up to his neck, he was already executing countering moves. His left leg hooked under his assailant's left to follow through a throw, but they were too quick and grabbed at his neck again so the two of them toppled backwards onto the bed, Jack on top.   
  
He could feel fast, hot breath against his face, then a hand snaked up the back of his head and pulled him down so their mouths met. The tongue that entered his mouth was desperate, and somehow, his lip was nipped. Hands clawed at his back, seeking a goal. There it was; his shirttail was pulled free and the hands found his naked flesh. Jack was trying to free himself from the right sleeve of his jacket, which was by now halfway down his arm and restricting his movement, but then he found himself being pulled tighter and then rolled over onto his back whereupon strong legs straddled his own, pinning the tangled arm under his own body.  
  
"Jesus!" he exclaimed, eliciting a savage yank on the waistband of his pants for his vocalisation. Then the unmistakable sound of a zipper being pulled forced him to grab his attacker's head with his free hand and drive it down to his own. Tongues were sucking and sliding as hands slid beneath his own armpits and lifted him off the bed a little way. He was able to shrug off his jacket and turn his attention to the buttons blocking his next move. Jack tried with his now free fingers to undo the dainty obstructions, but the urgent pressure in his pants got the better of him and he pulled the fabric edges apart so forcefully he could hear tortoiseshell pinging all around him. His hands found warm breasts straight away so he set to work, his palms cupping mounds, silvery cream in the gloom. Under his right hand, beneath his assailant's ribs, he could feel a strong pulsation:  
  
Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub.  
  
A soft exhalation sounded in his ear. Abruptly, his pants were tugged roughly over his hips, causing him to moan and half sit awkwardly up. The other hands stilled at that, while his own caressed soft cheeks in the dark. He heard another deep sigh; a contented sigh, and his mouth was again taken by another. As Jack lay back onto to bed covers, he felt a gentle hand guide him and a warm weight settled over his legs.   
  
He waited before he began to move. Once the hand was braced by his shoulder, he started. The movements were subtle at first, and then gathered in speed and intensity.  
  
A whisper was breathed into his ear; "I'm flying."   
  
samandjack. carterandoneill.  
  
They were a 'they' now. Life was good.  
  
******  
  
He supported himself against the outcropping and fed out some more line. It was a helluva hot day for a Minnesotan April and he was sweating profusely. He could hear panting beneath him, so he positioned his rock shoe clad feet in a deep crevice, propped his knee supports against a handy ledge, and looked down.  
  
"Only a few more feet to go!" he bellowed through his legs and dipped a hand into the chalk bag attached to his belt. Slapping off the excess, he heard huffing from below.   
  
"Sorry!" he called uselessly, smirking at the light dusting of white he had just showered his... girlfriend with.   
  
"You said that several *meters* back," she complained, a patch of chalk-snow on her freckled nose. Should've remembered the sun block for her, he thought.  
  
He checked the foremost carabiner and pushed his Oakleys further up his damp nose. "Meters, schmeeters, Carter, I think in old money!" he yelled back, only to be met with a red-powdered-with-white glare. Grinning again, he waited until he felt the line go slack before continuing his ascent.   
  
Avoiding a small scree-patch, he boosted himself over the ridge and flopped his chest gratefully on the flat area atop the cliff and wriggled his ass snake-like (not a good analogy, O'Neill) away from the edge.  
  
Anchoring his feet, he secured the line and shucked off his pack and extra rope carefully as Sam crested the edge and stumbled towards his outstretched arms.  
  
She tripped. Her face was now buried in his crotch.   
  
The opportunity!   
  
Unfortunately, she straightened and unhooking the chinstrap of her helmet, she removed it with a sigh, ruffling her hair with her hands as she did so. "Later, *fly*boy," she leaned forward on her hands and knees to kiss him briefly on the lips, then swizzled about and plunked herself down, her ass parked comfortably between his thighs. They surveyed the view.  
  
"How you doing?" he asked, carefully and unclipping his pack clasps, he fished out a small towel and handed it to her.  
  
Leaning her head back and settling the helmet beside their legs, she took it and assured him; "I'm fine. You? How are the supports working?" She tapped his right knee. "Will Dad have to give them another turn under the healing device when he's next here?"  
  
"My knees are just fine, thank you, *Colonel* Carter, and I don't want *General* Carter anywhere near them again." Jack scowled as he remembered a caustic exchange that cleared the infirmary faster than a shout of 'Kree!'.  
  
Damn, she was sniggering. "Oy!" he admonished.  
  
"Oh come on, Jack, you did nothing but moan, and he told you to lay still." He could HEAR her smirking as she patted down her damp skin with the towel.  
  
Okay, he would play. "For three HOURS? Yeah, right. It was a conspiracy!" Jack tugged off his sunglasses and let them fall free to the length of their spectacle cord.  
  
She was giggling again. Enough. He pushed aside the hair from the nape of her neck, laved the skin with his tongue and blew gently. Ha. From giggling to moaning in 1.3 seconds.  
  
"He was really there for you, anyway," he said into her collar quietly, smoothing his fingers over the slightly bumpy skin on her forearm, the scars now faded to a silvery-white. Jack found his hands being taken and cuddled across her chest, his fingers touching Pavan's bracelet around her right wrist.  
  
Their attention was caught by a large bird of prey, riding the air currents, looking for all the world like a champion surfer, arms outstretched, at one with his beloved element. It dipped down, out of sight of their line of vision.  
  
Sam spoke first. "Was that an eagle?"  
  
Jack smiled. "For someone who can recite the periodic table backwards, you are totally nature-ly challenged. It was a buzzard. And it's spotted something by the way it just dived."  
  
A breeze toyed with the nearby trees and died away.  
  
"I can't believe how hot it is – this place is amazing, Jack!" She was so happy; he could tell. And he was happy that she was happy.   
  
"It's not always like this in April. I brought Charlie to the cabin in May once, and there was still snow in the sheltered spots. I got the chance to bring him up here, via the hikers trail, obviously. We sat over there-" he pointed further back from the rocky ledge with a sandy finger. "I'm glad I did though; it was the summer before he died."  
  
  
  
Sam craned her neck past him and flashed a gentle smile into his eyes before turning to regard the tranquil scene once more. "And I'm grateful and glad that you feel you can tell me that," was all she simply said, pulling his arms tightly around herself.  
  
Jack let that sink in. Yeah. He could tell her that. Now.  
  
He could speak to her in a way he never could to Sara. Your regular Wall Street stockbroker could go home to his wife and moan about his crappy day, giving up all the minute, boring details. He could hardly do that after another botched, classified middle-east mission, could he? With Sam, they had seven years of sizing each other up under the most extreme of circumstances before they even kissed. Well, a kiss that she knew about, at any rate. He didn't have to explain; she just *knew*.  
  
"How often do you think about him?" she asked, right out of the blue, her words eddying about with the dusty air.  
  
He supposed it was about time in their 'relationship' that they talk about his angel. "A bit. Sometimes more than others. Everyday in some ways, even though it's been nine years. I dunno. When I visit his grave, I guess I do, but the stronger memories seem to surface unexpectedly. Seeing kids in town giving their parents the runaround, the way some of the off-world kids are so bright-eyed with the wonder of us, the smell of baseball gloves." He shook his head.  
  
Sam nodded and hugged his hands to the space beneath her breasts again. "I can only imagine what it must be like for a parent to bury a child, of any age," she said, simply.  
  
Jack swallowed carefully and drew in a discrete breath. He twisted his fingers around Sam's wrist to touch the small home-hewn bracelet encircling it. "I think you have a fair idea." He felt her take a deep breath herself, her chest rising and falling under their joined hands. Her head came back to rest on his chest.  
  
"Somehow, it makes it easier knowing they had another baby girl." Her gaze was to the far side of the canyon.  
  
"Pavan's parents?" Jack qualified. Her felt her nodding and paused for a moment before replying.  
  
"Yeah. Although, they will never forget their son. He will be alive in their hearts, even if the memories get a little crowded in their heads, sometimes." He didn't trust himself to say anymore at this point, so he pursed his lips together and hunched his right shoulder up to his cheek to brush off some irritating grit.  
  
"Did you and Sara talk about having any more children? I mean, you were married for a while with only Charlie." My, she was chatty today.  
  
Jack picked at a spot on the thigh of his pants and tugged at the harness straps that disappeared under his crotch. "No." Oh, good answer, O'Neill, very informative. "Sara was pregnant when we married, and there was a lot to adjust to, both on my part and on hers. When Charlie was born, she went almost straight back to teaching and my career was taking off, literally. I was away so much, life just ground on, we didn't stop to think. After the accident, we didn't talk at all. Well, Sara tried, but I was consumed by hatred. Survivor's guilt, I guess McKenzie would call it."  
  
"I know all about that," she whispered quietly. It was his turn to hold her tighter and he waited for a while before speaking.  
  
"What about you, Sam? You've come so far and done so much. Didn't you ever think about having kids?"   
  
Her response was strong and practised. "At first, no way. Never even gave it a second thought. I watched the few girlfriends I had in college gradually give up their careers for squealing brats, and I couldn't understand them. Just recently, however, I guess I have." The sentence ended on an up note, a smile in her voice.  
  
"Raging hormones, eh?" He couldn't resist it.  
  
She humphed. "Don't go there, Jack, unless you want to take the quick way down to the bottom of the ravine."  
  
He snickered and brushed his lips along her freckled neck for good measure.  
  
Sam continued. "After being stuck on that planet with the kids, Pavan's death and everything that followed, I had a long down time to think about things. I have to admit, I'm tired, Jack. I want a little something for me, however selfish that sounds."  
  
"It doesn't sound selfish to me," Jack mused, almost to himself.  
  
Sam half turned. "It doesn't?" There was a pause. "Do you want more children?" she asked hesitantly and twisted back.   
  
"Only with the right person," Jack stated, firmly. Sam knew all about Laira now, relieved though he was that no child had come of their brief, drunken night together a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.   
  
"Really?" she squeaked, then coughed and cleared her throat. "That's good."  
  
The air was definitely cooler now.  
  
"Got anyone in mind?" she asked.  
  
Jack cocked his head. "Might do," he sniffed.   
  
"Tohavebabieswith?" Her words were rushed, but so full of hope.  
  
"Yup." He knew that one day, *one* *day*, he would pay her back for every little cute grin and sideways wink she had ever tipped him.  
  
She was trembling. Okay, enough was enough. He reached right around her front and taking hold of her opposite arm he pulled her so that she was facing him, her knees folded awkwardly and her climbing harness pulling her back.  
  
"Come live with me and be my love." He had no idea where those words had come from. It sounded like poetry. Did he actually *learn* something at school? Not to worry, as it was having the desired effect; Sam Carter's eyes were as huge as saucers, and damp ones at that.  
  
"Are you asking.. ?" she stammered, her hand flapping to her throat.  
  
He smiled broadly and straightened his now aching back. "Yasureyabetcha. But lets get hitched first; the babies can come afterward."  
  
Sam was gawping.   
  
"Before you wonder what Dad thinks, I cleared it with him after he was done with my displaced patella," said Jack, as if reading her thoughts. "And I definitely have a go for this mission." He grinned. Life was gooder than good.  
  
Chin goes up, chin goes down, chin goes up.… "You did? He did? He *DID*?!" Her breath was huffing loose blonde hair all the way to the top of her eyebrows.  
  
He grinned again. *That* grin he knew always worked. "You can say yes now."  
  
The blue-green saucers softened and little crinkles appeared at the skin around the edges.  
  
"Are you absolutely sure?" she asked, and caught her lip with her teeth. Hell, even that turned him on.  
  
"I'm supposed to say that to you, Carter and Yes. I. Am." He cocked his head and raised his eyebrows. Well?  
  
Her grin was blinding – he needed better Oakleys. {Please say yes, please say yes}  
  
"Yes."  
  
Pressing a hand to her cheek, he felt her lean into the touch, her eyelashes tickling the side of his palm. With a suddenness that surprised even him, he scrambled to his feet, pulling her with him. Holding her hands carefully, he tugged her round to a standing position facing out to the glorious Minnesotan afternoon view that surrounded them. He held fast to her wrists as he stretched out his arms so that both pairs mimicked the bird of prey they had just admired.  
  
He took a deep breath.  
  
"I'm KING OF THE WORLD!" The bellow echoed about the small canyon.  
  
Giggling madly, she pulled his arms down and hugged them fiercely, as if embarrassed, but delighting in the sensation. Standing chest-to-back, they were silent for a moment, the faint breeze lifting their hair and cooling their faces as the enormity of what they had just agreed to sank in.   
  
After several heart-pounding minutes went by, he shifted slightly, about to suggest they move before rigor mortis set in. Suddenly, Sam half turned her head to the left and curled her arm awkwardly around the back of his neck to pull him closer to her back. He bent his own head to meet hers and closed his eyes as his chapped lips met her soft skin. He could taste her lip salve and opened his mouth ever so slightly to lick the flavour. The tongue that entered his mouth in response was loving and giving, gentle yet strong.   
  
Her head was dipping and nudging as she relished the kissing and more than once, she released her mouth only to poke out her tongue to lick his lips again. He could feel mini-Jack begin to harden, and considered the fact that he was really going to quite enjoy trying to make babies with Sam Carter. He tightened his grip under her breasts and on her stomach, loving this woman so much it made him dizzy.  
  
He broke the kiss gently and hugged her tightly around her middle again. He couldn't stop grinning. He had just mutually agreed to marry possibly the only woman in the universe who understood him, and to try for children with her.  
  
Couldn't. Stop. Grinning.  
  
Yowsa!  
  
"Just one thing, Jack," Sam said sweetly.  
  
He was caught off-guard. "Anything, my honey."  
  
Her could feel her shoulders harden; heck, he was *so* gonna pay for that. "YOU change the diapers."  
  
D'oh!  
  
******  
  
The End  
  
Copyright © Audrey Menzies Richardson, 2004  
  
"Vulgo enim dicitur: lucundi acti labores" (Cicero) 


	5. Sam Watching

TITLE: Sam Watching  
  
AUTHOR: A. M. Richardson  
  
SPOILERS: Set S8, but no real spoilers  
  
RATING: G/Ship  
  
PAIRINGS: Sam/Jack  
  
WARNINGS: Very fluffy  
  
SUMMARY: Jack Watches Them.  
  
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp. and Double Secret Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended.   
  
E-MAIL: audrich08 @ aol.com (remove spaces)  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is the fifth and final instalment in the 'Enough is Enough' series.  
  
Dedicated to Jenny L, who may not see this, as at present, she is actually getting a life down under *g*, but she really, really loved it. *smooches*  
  
******  
  
Jack lay awake in the warm of the late night, Sam-watching again.  
  
She was taking up quite a bit of their bed, sleeping partially on her right side, with her left leg flung out over the sheets to keep cool. Her right arm was tucked under the pillow, cradling her bed-swept blonde head, and her left arm was resting under her breasts. He watched as her chest steadily rose and fell in a regular rhythm. Jack began to count the breaths and changed his breathing to match her own. Her lashes were spread gently on her slightly pink cheeks and the mouth he had kissed not that long ago, was parted a little as she breathed in and out.   
  
Jack followed the breaths. In. Out. In. Out.  
  
He pulled off his reading glasses, shifted the late-night-reading-report that he had been trying to finish onto the floor, and turned on his right side to get better view of his sleeping wife. He smiled at her, appreciating the fact that she was finally resting and contented. She had been working too hard up until just lately; her knowledge and skills much in demand, now that she was effectively Earth-bound for a few months. He had laid down the law the fourth evening she had rung to say she would be late home. He wasn't taking time off from commanding the Beta site to sit on his own, twiddling his thumbs, but more importantly, he was concerned that she was overdoing it. She hadn't taken much telling though – at seven months pregnant, she was quite ready to slow down.   
  
Sam's chest was covered by a thin, grey tank top (*the* tank top?) that ended where her stomach swelled outwards. Now that her breasts were becoming fuller, she said it felt more comfortable to wear a little support at night. She had felt a bit out of control of her body at first, as it changed and filled out. However, it hadn't taken her long to carry the miraculous alterations in her stride and she responded to her body's needs with care and attention. Jack grinned at some purple streaks down near her panties: the faint beginnings of stretch marks. He reached out and stroked them softly, remembering Sam's horrified reaction when she first saw them in the mirror. She looked at herself in the mirror a lot lately, not something she had previously been in the habit of doing. He had first caught her inspecting her naked side profile at ten weeks when her stomach was still taught and flat. He had kissed her soundly, and teased her mercilessly, but that didn't stop her checking again the next day for any sign of their growing child.  
  
Now, at 33 weeks, her pregnancy was beautifully obvious.   
  
Her baby bump wasn't that big; her height helped to ensure she carried the extra weight well. But this was *Sam Carter*. Sam-kickass-Lt.Colonel-Doctor-astrophysicist extraordinaire-Carter-O'Neill. Sam "I'm too busy saving the world to have a life" Carter. Sam "Oh my God, I'm pregnant at the age of 38" Carter. Becoming parents at their - advanced - age was not something they had planned. They married very soon after their respective promotions, when Jack was posted to command the off-world site. They almost fell into it, a natural progression of their relationship after seven very close, very scary years. No one batted an eyelid when they announced that they were 'seeing each other', and most had just asked when they were getting married. So they did. In the base chapel, in dress blues, in a hurry, before Jack left for two months.  
  
When he finally had furlough, he practically ran down the 'gate ramp and broke every Colorado Springs speed limit to get home where he knew she was *waiting*. One rather energetic (and pleasurable) sexual limbo dance and a split condom later, a decision had to be made. That decision was *not* to go for the morning after pill. They were in love and married now; this was up to fate. Well, fate was no match against O'Neill Sup-a-Sperm. Wham, Bang, Thank You Ma'am; they were pregnant. Jack was over the moon – he had cried like a baby when she came home early to tell him, but Sam was in shock for a while. She was worried about her age, she was worried about how the Naquadah in her body would affect the baby, she was worried that this was too early in their relationship, she was just *worried*. Long talks with Janet and repeated scans and tests had served to reassure her (and him) that the baby was fine, and with the way it was never still, it was taking after Dad.  
  
He was mesmerised by the subtle movements under her skin – their unborn child was active again tonight. Sam's creamy skin rippled and dimpled as Baby Carter-O'Neill jiggled to find a comfortable spot in the womb. He placed his hand gently on Sam's side to feel the flutterings, only to be rewarded with a sharp jab as an elbow or knee pushed his hand over.  
  
Another hand came to cover his, her wedding ring set glittering in the subdued lighting.   
  
"Don't tell me you woke him up?"   
  
He glanced up at Sam, but her eyes were still closed and a slight smile was playing on her sleep-filled face.  
  
"Nah, *she* was awake already." This kid was *so* a girl.  
  
Sam's eyes snapped open. "*He*."  
  
"*She*." Jack loved this.  
  
"I want to continue this discussion, but first..." her voice trailed off as she began to extract her right leg from under the sheets.  
  
Jack smirked and leaned over to whisper conspiratorially to the bump, "Mommy needs another pee-pee, baby."   
  
His wife shot Jack THE look, and held out her arm. Jack sat up, and with holding her arm and placing a hand under her back, he levered her carefully to a sitting position.  
  
"Yeah, well, you would need to go as often as me, if you had a 30 kg bag of wet sand sitting on your bladder, day and night." Sam swung her legs over the edge of the bed and grunted a little with the effort of standing up. "We've gotta raise the bed off the floor a bit more."  
  
Jack snickered in response but sobered his face when he was thrown another hard stare. His eyes followed her to the bathroom, enjoying her altered gait. At five-foot-nine, a pregnant Sam Carter didn't exactly 'waddle', but more 'toddled', and he took pleasure in the way her growing body had changed her walk. He was in awe of the entire physical progression and couldn't quite classify the myriad of emotions that both of them had experienced since they knew that Baby Carter-O'Neill was on its - her - way.   
  
Some old wounds had been opened for him after the initial excitement had worn off. He couldn't get Charlie out of his head for a while, and he knew he would have to tell Sara. Supposing they met at the supermarket with Sam and the new kid? He had loved Sara too much to do that to her, but it had been hard enough to write and tell her that he was getting married again. He was nervous about explaining this to Sam, but she totally understood, and even seemed to be waiting for him to say something. She had left him pretty much to his own devices, but had been quietly supportive when Jack and Sara had visited Charlie's grave on the anniversary of their son's birthday just three weeks ago. He had felt indescribably awkward when Sara had asked to speak to Sam, who was waiting in the car in the cemetery's parking lot. He had fiddled with his suit buttons while wife number one had politely hugged wife number two, and was astonished when the two women swapped business cards. Women. He would never understand them.  
  
This opinion was vindicated when he had wanted to go 'baby shopping' one weekend soon after they 'knew'. Sam had prevaricated, procrastinated and generally avoided the issue until he got out of her that she felt it was too early to shop, and that to do so might tempt fate. Sam 'Logic' Carter was superstitious? Then, one Saturday evening a few weeks later, when Sam was having a girl's night out with Janet and Cassie, he was changing the bed linen, as ordered. As he leaned over the mattress, he stubbed his toe on something hard underneath her side of the bed. Hunkering down, he pulled out a dozen baby store catalogues, all well thumbed, marked and indexed in Sam's scrawly handwriting.   
  
He had been distracted at first by a list of baby names that Sam had written on the back – all boys names. He grinned at the 'Jack Junior' (no way in Netu would there be a 'junior' in there), Jake (he liked that, and he knew Dad would as well), Oliver (Oliver?!) and.. Pavan. But that had been scored out. He sighed, but then grinned when he noticed she had also been writing out her signature. Sam O'Neill. Samantha O'Neill. Mrs S. O'Neill. So much for women's equality, he had mused. They had both agreed that Sam would keep her maiden name in matters relating to work to avoid confusion, but she was quite willing to have their child known as an 'O'Neill'. Jack had disagreed. He felt the 'O'Neill' tag might be too much to bear, especially if the kid followed their parent's choice of career. He or she would end up enduring an ass-kicking session in the locker rooms. He reasoned that 'Carter-O'Neill' would at least indicate the kid might have *some* brains. When Sam saw Jacob Carter's reaction to Jack's ideas, she had relented after much father-daughter hugging. Ha! Off the scale for son-in-law brownie points.  
  
The following week, when Sam was seconded to Area 51 for two weeks, he pulled out the secret baby catalogue stash. With Janet's help, he gave his platinum Visa card a severe bashing when he ordered *everything* Sam had marked. Mrs C-O came back home to a baby wonderland created by the three stooges, 'T', Dr Dan and himself. She stood with her mouth gaping and her eyes shining, realizing what he had done. The soldier/mother managed not to cry until she came into their bedroom, only to find a new wardrobe of the maternity clothes that by then, she badly needed. When she pointed out that Jack had bought far more than she, and the baby, would need, he shrugged and simply stated that the extras would do for the next one. Then it was floodgates ahoy.  
  
Jack's attention was drawn to the sound of the bathroom door opening. Ah, good; he could get a front view now. As his wife walked towards him, her baby bump swayed gently to and fro and the odd dark line stretching from her navel to down under her panties was showing clearly. He was aware his face was showing a huge grin as he flung the sheets back to welcome her.  
  
"Don't give me any crap about me being beautiful; I look like a beached whale," she complained as she lowered herself to the bed, an arm outstretched on the mattress to help her balance.  
  
Jack snorted. "You *do* look beautiful, and you know it. Madam has all her male attendants running about after her every whim. Siler and Simmons slave after you."  
  
"Maybe, so long as you don't get Siler to repeat that," Sam quipped, swinging her legs up and leaned over to give him a quick kiss. Jack smiled under her lips: Listerine and stretch mark cream – that irresistible combination of scents.  
  
He laid back and raised his right arm. Sam wiggled into a comfortable position, nestling into his side and flung an arm over his chest. He caressed the skin on her limb and noted that she must still be leaving Pavan's bracelet in her jewellery box. He asked her about that one night when they were cuddled up together in front of a roaring fire parked on top of a mound of pillows, their lump only a bump then. She was reluctant to talk about it at first, but after a few tears, she confessed that she felt she had closure on that incident in her life. She felt good, she felt strong, she felt forgiven. The bracelet would be worn on and off and finally 'passed down' to baby O'Neill when it was time. Closure indeed, as T would say.  
  
Sam peeped up to his face. "Have you been thinking again?" she asked, as Jack wrapped his arm around hers further.  
  
Jack angled his chin down to meet her gaze, "Yeah."  
  
Sam wiggled her shoulders, "Well don't, that's *my* job."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Yeah."   
  
"Okay." Jack tightened his caress around her, and let his left hand rest on the bump again. He began to rub her stomach in a circular movement, as he knew it soothed the stretched skin.   
  
He saw Sam's eyes flutter close as she enjoyed the sensation. "You're so good to me, Jack O'Neill, Earth saviour and husband."  
  
"You *so* want me to rub your feet after." He had her pegged.  
  
Sam tried to stifle a laugh by turning her face into his armpit.   
  
He tightened his arm again. "I love you, Samantha."   
  
And, he did, he completely did.  
  
Her head moved. Two very wide, very cerulean-green eyes were staring at him. "I love you back, and *don't* say 'I know'."  
  
He smiled *that* smile and watched those eyes sparkle. "Get some rest," he suggested, gently.  
  
"Yes, sir," she mumbled, and moved his hand to another spot on her bare midriff. Her head lowered to his chest, and gradually, her breathing evened out.  
  
Jack lay awake in the warm of the late night, Sam-watching again.  
  
******  
  
The End  
  
Copyright © Audrey Menzies Richardson, 2004  
  
"Vulgo enim dicitur: lucundi acti labores" (Cicero) 


End file.
